“I’ll do it,” Todd interjected.
Sara closed her eyes and let his words slide past her before she shifted in her seat to face the orange glow and rising smoke. “We need to ensure our defenses are tight before we do anything.”
“I was thinking we could board up the windows,” Dion said, eyes darting back and forth between Sara and Todd.
“That’s a great place to start,” Sara said, thankful someone was offering a realistic idea. “And if we don’t have enough wood to cover them completely, we can cut down some of the stripped branches and nail them over the windows on the inside.”
“Like bars?” Dion asked.
“Exactly.”
“We have a bunch of wood screws,” Todd said, kicking at the deck floor with the toe of his boot. “Long ones, too. They’ll work better than nails.”
“Great idea, son,” Sara said. “We can start on that today. Anyone have any other ideas? Any thoughts regarding our interloper last night?”
Sara and Dion had told the others about the person Dion saw snooping around the generator shed and the tracks they’d left behind. Todd had immediately gotten angry and suggested they all carry a weapon, while Natasha had shown outright worry. Sara had assured them both that there probably wasn’t anything to get excited about, but that didn’t mean they should let their guard down.
“We need an alarm system,” Dion said, flashing Todd a grin. “You know, like in the movies when they tie a trip wire all around their encampment.”
“And tie tin cans to the wire?” Todd returned the smile, and Sara was glad the two got along so well. It gave Todd a friend to talk to who Sara considered a good influence.
“That’s not a terrible idea,” Sara said, “as silly as it seems. A few low-tech perimeter alarm systems would be fairly easy to make. And there’s the cameras, too.”
“Cameras?” Dion asked.
“Jake and I invested in a two-camera security system that could tie into our laptops using the cabin’s wireless access point,” Sara said.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Natasha laughed. “Well, I suppose I’m surprised you haven’t set it up yet.”
“The tech stuff is Jake’s forte,” Sara said. “He was supposed to do it when he got here.”
“I can do it, Mom,” Todd said, standing up and sounding sure of himself. “I helped Dad install the one at home.”
“I think that’s a great idea,” Sara said, giving Todd a wan smile as she was reminded how much he looked like his father. “Change of plans. We’ll board up the windows later. Right now, Todd will install the cameras around the porch, and we’ll set up some low-tech alarms on the sides of the house where the cameras might not reach.”
“All right, Mom.” Todd flashed them the hint of a grin before he went inside the house to get the equipment from the cellar.
“Tell us more about the low-tech alarms,” Natasha said.
“Follow me.” Sara downed the rest of her coffee and led Dion and Natasha back through the house.
Zoe had been napping on the couch with the dogs, but she yawned and got up when the three came into the room.
Rubbing her eyes, she said, “What’s Todd all excited about?”
“Your brother is going to set up the cameras we brought with us,” Sara said, kneeling down in front of her daughter. “And we’re going to set some alarms around the perimeter of the house so we can hear if anyone enters the yard. Want to come?”
Zoe nodded vigorously and smiled.
“All right. Get your rain gear on.”
By now, everyone knew what rain gear was—boots, rain poncho, and galoshes, in Zoe’s case—and the four of them marched over to the entryway where their outerwear rested on towels and plastic while a battery-powered fan blew air over them.
Sara grimaced as she pulled on her boots and found them still a little soggy, but her feet quickly warmed the insides and made them a little more tolerable.
“We’re going to need some cans,” Sara said, going into the kitchen to sort through the discarded recyclables they’d been saving throughout the week. She pulled out several empty soda cans and two vegetable cans as the others watched. Handing those to Dion with a smile, Sara led them back to the entryway and told them to wait there while she went down to the equipment locker and rummaged through the bottom drawers until she found a roll of duct tape, some cord, and fishing line they’d stored there years ago. Sara shut the locker and went back upstairs.
She held the fishing line for everyone to see.
“We’ll use that for a trip wire?” Dion asked.
“I wish it was smoke-colored so it would be harder to see, but this will be fine for a nighttime alarm. There’s no way anyone will see it in the dark.”
“Sounds spooky,” Natasha said.
Todd was already out on the porch, laying out his tools and unpacking the two cameras “What do you think, Mom? One on each side of the porch?”
“That would be perfect,” Sara said, looking into the top corners of the portico. “Just make sure one of them can rotate enough to view someone standing at the front door.”
“Got it,” Todd said, and he went back to work.
“What else will we need for the alarms, Sara?” Dion asked with an enthusiastic expression.
“We’ll need a few small pieces of wood,” Sara said, biting her lip. “Three pieces for each alarm. One piece to strike the cans, one brace stick, and a small trigger stick for each alarm.”
Sara led them off the porch and over to where they’d left the levers they’d used to move the bridge. There were all kinds of branch trimmings laying around, and the four of them began searching for the appropriately sized sticks. After a few questions and comparing bits of wood, they finally had what Sara thought was a good enough collection to get started.
“I’ll carry them, Mom,” Zoe said.
“You heard the girl,” Sara announced. “Load her up.”
Zoe put out her arms and everyone filled them with a dozen or more sticks.
“Now, where do we want to place these alarms?” Sara asked herself more than anyone as she looked around the yard.
“Todd’s putting the near-side camera about in the middle of the edge of the portico,” Dion said, noting where Todd was standing on his ladder and marking a spot. “So maybe we should put them toward the rear of the cabin where the cameras won’t reach.”
“At the edge of the woods, but not too near the creek,” Sara said with a nod. “Or the sound of running water will drown them out. We can do the same on the other side of the cabin, but without the creek noise we’ll be able to set it a little farther out.”
The group moved along the creek toward the back edge of the woods where the creek wove down the side of the mountain. The ground gradually began to decline, and it would be easy to slide downward and drop thirty to fifty feet to the next cliff if they weren’t careful.
“Stay right with us, Zo,” Sara told her youngest as she searched for a perfect pair of trees to rig the alarm. “What do I always say about coming around to this part of the woods?”
“If I come back here to play, I’ll fall away,” Zoe said in an innocent voice with a tinge of fear around the edges.
“That’s right,” Sara said, absently. “You’ll be fine if you don’t wander.”
“What are you looking for, Sara?” Natasha asked.
“A pair of smallish trees in a V shape,” Sara said, “or two standing close together.”
“How about these?” Dion asked, walking over to a cherry tree with two trunks that wove up from the ground.
“That’s just the shape we need,” Sara said. “Now, poke some holes near the tops of the cans and use the cord to tie them up in a cluster between the V.”
Sara handed Dion her knife and guided him as he poked holes in the cans and wove cord through them. Then he tied them between the two trunks firmly enough so that they jangled noisily when Sara slapped them.
“Good,” Sara nodded. “N
ow tie one of the longer sticks below the cans and wind it so there is some tension.”
Natasha looked confused at first, until Sara took the stick, tied it between the trees, adjusted the height so that the end of the stick would pass through the cluster of cans, and spun the stick end over end several times until the cord was wound tight.
“If I let go of the stick,” Sara explained as she inspected the height once more and made one final adjustment. “It will whack the cans like a paddle.”
“Oh, I see,” Natasha said with a sudden bright smile.
“Now, I need another long stick to act as a brace for the paddle stick,” Sara said, holding out her hand.
Natasha picked a stick from Zoe’s arms and handed it to Sara. She placed the brace horizontally against the trunks and then rested the paddle on it so it wouldn’t spin.
“And we use one of the small sticks to act as a trigger stick, right?” Dion said, sounding excited.
“That’s right. You want to set the trigger stick?”
Dion took a small stick about three inches long and placed it perpendicular to the brace stick, lifting the paddle and resting it on the end of the trigger.
“Now we just tie the trip wire to it,” Dion said, pointing to the trigger stick and then down at the ground. “And run it down along the ground, tying it off wherever we want. When someone trips the wire, it will jerk the trigger stick away and drop the brace, allowing the paddle to whack the cans.”
Sara smiled at her apprentice with satisfaction. “You’ve got it, buddy. We have to test it a few times to make sure it does what it’s supposed to do, but you’ve got the gist of it.”
“Look at us, Tash,” Dion gave Natasha a gentle and good-natured elbow in the arm. “We’re building tin can alarms in the woods like bosses. Did you ever think we’d be doing that?”
“It’s awful noisy with the creek close by,” Natasha said, doubtfully. “You really think we’ll hear it?”
“Maybe not on this side.” Sara shrugged. “But it might be enough to scare someone away.”
Natasha looked at the wood-and-string setup, pursed her lips, and gave Dion an affirmative glance. “Building tin can alarms in the woods, like bosses.”
Chapter 20
Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 12:53 p.m., Thursday
“Jake, wait.” Marcy tried to shout, but she was panting so hard that the words came out soft and breathy. Jake set Timothy down as he turned, seeing that Marcy was twenty yards behind him and limping badly. The pained look on her face was alarming, and Alice’s eyes were full of worry at Marcy’s obvious discomfort.
They’d alternated between running and walking all morning, sometimes climbing obstacles and weaving through the battered landscape of South Boston as they tried to escape X-Gang. A five-minute rest had usually been enough before Jake forced them to run again. This time, it looked like Marcy was finally done.
“Can we rest?” Marcy asked as she hobbled up, twisting her body to shift the backpack weighing down her shoulders. “I mean, a real rest?”
“I don’t think so,” Jake said, breathing heavily. “I know we’ve been running all morning, but we’ve probably only covered two miles. That’s not far enough away from X-Gang for my taste.” Still, Marcy looked downright beaten. Her face was smeared with dirt and rain, and her posture was twisted as she favored the injured leg. Emotions warred in Jake’s head. They’d be done if X-Gang caught up to them, however, it wouldn’t matter if Marcy became too crippled to travel. “We can walk for now. Can you do that?”
Marcy gave a barely perceptible nod as another wince crossed her features.
“Sorry,” Jake said, giving her what he hoped was an apologetic look.
They continued along the unnamed street as the wind and rain began to pick up. It always did during the daylight hours. Jake had read somewhere that storms gained energy during the day, something about the sun warming the air and causing a clash with the colder air. He wasn’t a weather expert, although his experience over the past week told him there was some truth to those words.
The hail started to fall twenty minutes later, tiny balls of hard ice that pinged off their heads and shoulders, causing Timothy to cry in alternating sobs and whimpers. Jake and Marcy put their arms over the children’s heads and protected them as best they could, the boy beyond weariness and exhaustion.
Jake’s eyes welled up with tears. It was more than any kid should have to go through. Especially one as delicate as Timothy. The kid was gentle and sensitive, so this must seem like a nightmare to him.
“It’s okay, Timothy,” Alice said, coming over to put her arm over her brother’s shoulders. “We’ll be there soon, right, Jake?”
“That’s right.” Jake stopped and hugged Timothy to him.
“Yeah, Jake,” Marcy said, stopping and bending over to rest with her hands on her knees. “But where’s ‘there?’”
“Somewhere far from X-Gang.” Jake stood straight with his hands on his hips, eyes searching in every direction. Then he looked down, noticing part of a big sign at his feet. He kicked it, saying the name out loud. “Franklin Zoo.”
“If we’re near the Zoo, then we’re making good progress,” Marcy said. “At least from what I remember.”
“Yes, except this sign could have been picked up and tossed two miles through the air,” Jake said with a doubtful expression. “Hard to tell where we are at all. I just know it was lighter gloom over there this morning.” Jake pointed toward what he thought was the east. “And now the lighter gloom is almost directly overhead. So, it must be around noon, and we need to keep heading west.”
Marcy nodded, took Alice by the hand, and started walking across the street.
“Come on, kid,” Jake said, giving Timothy a comforting pat on the back and guiding the little boy behind the limping Marcy.
They entered the parking lot of an auto-repair shop, and Jake stopped to see if any of the cars still worked. The front office had collapsed inward on itself, making it too dangerous to try and retrieve any of the keys, and most of the cars had been tossed around by the wind. Those that weren’t missing tires or other vital parts were packed tightly into the parking lot, and it might take Jake all day to free one of them. They didn’t have all day, so they kept walking.
Behind the repair shop were some railroad tracks, and Alice helped Marcy navigate the tricky landscape, guiding her carefully up the gravel rise and over the heavy iron tracks. Once they crossed, Jake led them onto another street, where they turned left and walked on in aimless misery.
The hail finally let up as the wind continued to buffet them, sometimes causing Marcy to topple to the side. Alice held strong to Marcy’s hand and kept the woman from falling.
Jake’s head spun from exhaustion, and his own back and legs ached more than they had in his entire life. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Marcy must be going through, but she remained tough and continued putting one foot in front of the other. Eventually, they were walking so slowly that their progress was negligible. It took them ten minutes to make one city block.
“We’re toast,” Jake said, stopping to look around. “It doesn’t make any sense to continue like this.”
“Finally,” Marcy said, putting her hands on her knees and bending over to lean her weight on her shaking arms. “I could fall over right here.”
Jake frowned. Maybe he had pushed them too far beyond their limits, and now it was time for him to find them a serious place to rest. There were a lot of standard-style Bostonian homes in the area, mostly intact. One caught Jake’s eye because it was close, and it looked like it might have an easy access entryway. The foundation was stone and mortar, and there were big, wide windows right along the sidewalk where they could just slide down inside. The only problem was that they were boarded up from the inside, but maybe one of them was loose and could easily be pushed in.
Jake went to the first window, knelt down, and pushed on the wood. It was firmly fixed, so he moved on to the second one. Th
is one was a little looser, and he was able to push it in half an inch or so. He pried his fingers into one corner and started pushing hard, even giving it a punch to see if he could dislodge it.
Just as he was about to strike it again, the wood fell inward, leaving him peering down in to the dark sub-basement. Confused that the board had fallen away cleanly, and there was no clatter of wood on the floor, Jake poked his head inside, only to back away as the twin barrels of a shotgun rose from the darkness.
Jake threw up his hands, eyes wide as he stared at the huge barrels. Then he looked down into the darkness to see several faces staring up at him. The man holding the shotgun simply shook his head and gestured with the end of the shotgun that Jake should move on along.
“Okay, man,” Jake said in a low, calm tone. “Just don’t shoot. I’ve got kids with me.”
Getting slowly to his feet, Jake backed away with his hands held high so the man could see. Once Jake reached the street, the board moved quietly back into place and was secured once more.
“Well, that almost ended badly,” Marcy said.
“Let’s go,” Jake said, continuing down the street once more. His legs felt like lead, and his feet were burning and raw. Timothy had finally stopped crying, and his hand was loose in Jake’s as they walked listlessly toward some indeterminate destination.
The wind hardly bothered Jake as it gusted and knocked him around. He became one with it, feeling its pressure all around him like a second skin. Then they came to a street on the right where some of the homes were in pristine shape, hardly touched by the storm while the neighboring homes were all missing roofs.
“One of those would be really good to rest in,” Marcy said, looking at the houses like a starving person eying a piece of steak. “They’ve got to have beds.”
“It’s way past our nap time,” Alice pointed out in agreement.
Jake glanced down at the girl to see if that was meant to be a joke, but she only stared up the street with tired eyes. “We might as well try them,” Jake said, “though I’ll need to be more careful this time. Most of the prime real estate is probably occupied.”
Weathering The Storm (Book 2): Surge Page 12
